Not Quite The Worst Holiday
by kalina16
Summary: It's Fourth of July fireworks with the FACE family, and Arthur, surprisingly enough, is enjoying himself. Brotherly/Familial love only.


**HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED! Here's my contribution to the obligatory, cliché Fourth of July fics XD. I apologize beforehand for any hideous mistakes, be it grammar-related or country-related, and for any out-of-characterness- it's my first time writing Hetalia, I'm sorry! **

**Anyhow, have a nice FACE family fic, that's surprisingly less centered around my precious America than I'd like it to be, but oh well. And it's a family fic! _Fammmily_, no romance here! Enjoy, reviews are appreciated! :)**

**...good lord, how do you people think of titles for these things?**

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**Not Quite The Worst Holiday**

"_Oh say can you seeee,"_ Arthur winced as the young girl's voice came blaring out of the loudspeakers set up around the field. While she certainly had a beautiful voice, he knew from certain…_experience_… that if one started out singing Alfred's anthem with their voice the slightest bit too high-pitched, they were going to run into serious trouble about halfway through the song. The American anthem's notes simply went too bloody high for regular human vocal cords. Alfred, however, Arthur thought as he glanced over at the smiling blonde, hand placed firmly over his heart, seemed to find no problem with the singer's high-pitched voice, only looking extremely proud and happy, as he always did when one of his beloved citizens sang his national anthem.

"…_o'er the rammmmparts we watched…"_ turning his gaze back to the girl nervously gripping the microphone, Arthur decided he wouldn't judge the girl until she hit the "rocket's red glare". After all, he'd watched hundreds of singer's on _Britain's Got Talent_ completely surprise the crowd with their wondrous singing ability. Of course, this girl was American, so perhaps he shouldn't be too optimistic.

"…_and the rocket's red glareeeee,"_ Arthur's eyes widened slightly as the girl hit the note dead on, not even the slightest tremble in her voice. Mentally congratulating the girl, he relaxed and decided that this anthem wouldn't end up as badly sung as others he'd heard before in such small-town events.

"…_gave proooof through the night…" _Arthur jumped as Francis elbowed him in the side, then turned to glare at the Frenchman.

"The girl has a very good singing voice, _non_?" Francis whispered, eyebrows rising suggestively. "Perhaps her beautiful singing eases the pain at the memory this lovely song brings of your crushing defeat in that little 1812 spat." Arthur choked.

"_I beg your pardon?!"_ he hissed, preparing to deck the smiling frog in his offending face. "I'll show you a '_spat'_ you pathetic, perverted, bast-"

"Would you two _shut up!_" Matthew hissed, shoving the two bickering countries apart. "It's in the middle of Al's national anthem; you can wait _5 more seconds!"_

"…_does that star-spangled bannerrrr yet waaaave…"_ Arthur and Francis reluctantly stepped apart and turned their attention back to the song. Alfred, thankfully, hadn't noticed, too absorbed in the singing of his heroic anthem.

"…_and the home of the braaaave!"_ The crowd burst into applause as the song finished, Alfred cheering and clapping enthusiastically. Arthur found himself clapping for the singer as well; despite the song being all about freedom and independence and other such touchy things, she had done a good job, and Alfred deserved at least that on his birthday.

"C'mon, guys!" Alfred said excitedly, grabbing Arthur and dragging him along. "Fireworks are about to start and the good seats are gonna go fast!"

As Alfred led the three countries through the energized crowds of people, Arthur bit his tongue to refrain from pointing out that it didn't matter where they sat, you could easily see the fireworks from anywhere in the large field; and secondly, it was a bloody _field_, the best seats you could get were on the grass. But Alfred's giddy happiness was infectious, and despite it being Arthur's quite possibly least favorite day of the year, he found himself unwilling to get into an argument with the American tonight, and instead simply enjoy the celebration with their little dysfunctional family.

As was tradition, Alfred had invited Francis, Matthew, and Arthur to one of his many Fourth of July fireworks displays, Alfred's favorite part of the entire holiday. And, as was also tradition, despite their occasional grumbling, all three countries came. This year, Alfred had taken them to a fireworks show in a grassy field in Georgia. He went to a different state each year to watch the fireworks, although Arthur could not figure for the life of him why he had chosen Georgia this year- it was _bloody_ hot and had left them drenched in a sheen of sweat.

"Here we go!" Alfred said brightly, flopping down in an open patch of grass. Matthew flopped next to him as Arthur and Francis gingerly lowered themselves into the grass. All around them people sat chattering excitedly, children running around shrieking as they waved brightly colored glow sticks. "Trust me, it's the best place to watch. I have Georgia's word on it."

Matthew unzipped the cooler they'd lugged up, rummaging through it. "Coke for Al," he said, tossing the beverage to Alfred. "Wine for Francis," he tossed Francis both the vintage bottle and a delicate wine glass. "Another coke for me," he placed the soda by his feet then tossed a flask to Arthur. "Aaaand whiskey for Arthur!" Both Alfred and Francis groaned.

"Oh, _mon dieu, Angleterre!_" Francis moaned. "Can we not go one night without you making yourself abysmally drunk?"

"Seriously, Iggy," Alfred said, eying the flask warily. "I'd rather not have to carry you home." Arthur turned red, fuming.

"I'll have you idiots know that I can hold my liquor perfectly fine!" The three snorted in unison. "Oh, sod off, you idiots." He muttered, downing a large swig of the drink.

Any remarks from the other three countries were cut off by a loud bang as the sky lit up with a dazzling display of red, white, and blue.

"Oh!" Alfred cried excitedly. "It's starting!"

Five minutes in and Arthur already found the display well worth the heat and crowds. Despite the American-themed music playing softly in the background and the overall patriotic-ness of it all, the bright display of colored stars exploding in the sky was breathtaking. Alfred and Matthew watched excitedly, letting out the occasional "oh" or "ah" at the particularly lovely ones. Arthur merely leaned back with Francis, appreciating the display with a quiet enjoyment.

Near fifteen minutes into the show, Francis and Matthew both dove for the food, blindly rooting through the cooler as they kept their eyes glued on the exploding lights. Alfred leaned back besides Arthur, bracing himself with his hands.

"Pretty awesome, huh, Iggy?" he said, smiling up at the fireworks.

"My name is not _Iggy_,"Arthur said haughtily. Then a bit gentler, "But yes, it is quite…_awesome._" Alfred grinned.

"Thank you, though," he murmured softly. "For coming." Arthur's eyebrows raised in surprise. That was a bit unexpected. He considered telling him he'd only come because he'd been stuck in North America after Matthew's birthday (which had been three days prior and so full of pancakes he never wanted to see the bloody things again) and had nothing better to do, but decided against it. It was Alfred's birthday, after all.

"Of course," Arthur replied softly. "Wouldn't have missed it." Alfred grinned at that; then his expression turned a bit nervous, as he seemed to be attempting to choose the right words.

"I know it must be pretty hard for you, you know, with this being- well, what it is, but..i-it means a lot. Having you here." Arthur's eyebrows shot higher. Alfred glanced at the ground nervously, then continued.

"I mean… I know it can seem like all this is kind of like, rubbing it in your face, or something-" Arthur leveled an icy glare at him and Alfred hurriedly continued. "B-but it's not! Not at all! I mean, maybe once it was, like, _right_ after the war, but that was more of a celebration, a-and I never meant it to hurt you or anything I swear-" Arthur mercifully put his hand over the American's mouth, effectively cutting off his rambling.

"Alfred," Arthur said seriously. It seemed as if everyone had disappeared, leaving only him and Alfred in the grassy field, whispering. "We've been over this. What's done is done, and I've forgiven you, and you've forgiven me. Now enjoy your birthday, it's not offending me." Alfred's nervous expression crumpled into one of relief and gratitude.

"Yeah, well-thanks. And…I am sorry. For whatever pain I caused you." Arthur opened his mouth to speak but Alfred held up his hand, silencing him. "Because honestly…there's no way I ever would have made it this far without you. Never. I would've just been… well, who knows, Spain's lackey or France's perverted colony or- well, nothing. None of this-" he gestured to the happy crowds, the booming fireworks, "would have been possible without you. Even if I did, um, have to, uh, kinda revolt, in the end." He swallowed. "And I know… I'm not the best at showing it but…thank you. For, um, everything." He held Arthur's gaze for a second, then ducked his head, turning scarlet.

Arthur felt a lump form in his throat as his eyes stung for a reason that had everything and nothing to do with the bright flashes of the fireworks above them. He had known, perhaps always, that Alfred cared for him, despite the revolution and that whole mess. He had also known, to some extent, that Alfred was the tiniest bit grateful, at least for those first happy years. However, hearing it from the country himself, on the one day he needed it most…Arthur swallowed.

"Thank you," he whispered quietly, his voice cracking slightly. Alfred raised his head, eyes meeting his. "Alfred- thank you, that…means a good deal." He found it his turn to swallow awkwardly, eyes glancing away from Alfred's intense blue ones. "And I know- I know you never meant to hurt me. And believe me, I never meant to hurt you, the whole thing just…blew out of hand, I suppose."

Alfred snorted. "That's one way of putting it." Arthur snorted himself, the heavy atmosphere dissipating.

"Yes, well, nothing solves a family dispute like cannon fire and bloodshed." Alfred grinned.

"Or excessive burning of the other's treasured buildings?"

Arthur spluttered, blushing. "Oh- why you- that was one little building! One time!" Alfred threw his head back, laughing.

"My _capitol_, Arthur! Just that one time you sent my _capitol_ up in flames!" Arthur spluttered again. Matthew turned to them, their voices having risen loud enough for him and Francis to hear.

"What's this I hear about burning family's buildings?" Alfred paled.

"Oh, shi- nothing at all, Mattie! No buildings being burned here, just nice peaceful…peace? Brotherly peace!" Matthew narrowed his eyes, then dove past Arthur and tackled Alfred.

"Take that, flame-wielding heathen!" he cried as he wrestled Alfred into the ground.

"Hey!" Alfred cried indignantly, shoving back. "I apologized! And you got me back, you hypocrite, I have the scars to prove it!" Francis laughed at the twin's antics, sipping his wine and watching amusedly. Arthur rolled his eyes, but allowed a small smile to creep onto his face as he watched the twins wrestle under the flashing lights of the fireworks.

"_Not such a bad holiday after all,"_ he thought, gazing up at the lights that celebrated the freedom of a person very dear to him. _"Not quite the worst at all."_


End file.
